After the Mar-a-Lago meeting between Netanyahu and Trump, a clear message was delivered to Iran: another attack will follow if you start rebuilding your nuclear capacity. But these threats are nothing compared with the reaction of Iran’s own population to the fall of the rial, its domestic currency.
To understand why the rial matters so profoundly, it must be seen not as a technical indicator but as a daily measure of survival. The exchange rate determines the price of food, medicine, fuel, rent, and imported inputs for small businesses. When the rial weakens, salaries fixed in local currency instantly lose real value, savings are wiped out, and planning for the future becomes impossible. In Iran’s current crisis, the currency has become a political instrument—one that broadcasts state failure directly into every household.
One currency, two realities
Crucially, the “value” of the rial is not a single number. Iran operates a fragmented, multi-rate currency system that has effectively split the economy into two parallel realities.
On one side is the official rate, published and managed by the Central Bank of Iran and applied to select transactions, particularly for essential imports and state-linked entities. In late December, this official benchmark hovered roughly in the 730,000–750,000 rials per US dollar range.
On the other side is the open market rate—often referred to as the black market rate—where ordinary citizens, small businesses, and traders actually source foreign currency. By the same period, the open market price in Tehran had surged past 1.3 million rials per dollar, with reports placing it closer to 1.35–1.4 million at peak moments.
The gap between these two rates—often exceeding 600,000 rials per dollar, or roughly 75–90%—is not a mere distortion. It is a visible expression of public distrust. It tells Iranians that the state’s declared value of money is fictitious, accessible primarily to insiders, while everyone else must operate at a far harsher exchange rate. Such spreads incentivize rent-seeking, corruption, and capital flight, while punishing wage earners and small merchants who lack privileged access.
From currency collapse to street unrest
This collapse in confidence has now spilled into the streets. Protests erupted in Tehran as the rial hit fresh historic lows, with demonstrators voicing anger not only at prices, but at the system that produced them. Shopkeepers reportedly closed their stores in protest—a move of particular significance in Iran, where the bazaar has long been a central economic and social institution.
Clashes were reported across multiple streets in Tehran, and authorities used tear gas to disperse crowds. The protests continued into a second day, underscoring that this was not a brief outburst, but a sustained reaction to economic despair. For many participants, the message was simple: life has become unaffordable, and official explanations no longer convince.
Official denial and recycled leadership
Regime officials responded by blaming “enemy psychological warfare” and foreign manipulation of currency markets. Senior security figures framed the unrest as externally induced rather than domestically driven. Yet such explanations ring hollow when the public experiences the effects of depreciation daily, at grocery counters and pharmacies.
In parallel, the regime attempted to project control by reshuffling leadership at the top of its monetary institutions. Former economy minister Abdolnaser Hemmati was appointed head of the central bank after his predecessor was impeached over inflation. Rather than calming markets or public sentiment, the move intensified anger. During Hemmati’s previous tenure as economy minister, the rial reportedly lost nearly half its value in just eight months—making his return a symbol of continuity, not reform.
Fuel prices and the memory of repression
The unrest is further inflamed by the regime’s decision to raise the cost of subsidized fuel. Fuel pricing in Iran is politically explosive, particularly after the traumatic memory of the 2019 protests, which were sparked by fuel hikes and violently suppressed. For many Iranians, rising fuel costs combined with a collapsing currency signal that the state is withdrawing even the most basic economic protections.
An economy trapped in decline
These developments unfold against an increasingly bleak macroeconomic outlook. Forecasts point to recession in the coming years, with continued economic contraction and inflation approaching levels not seen in decades. High inflation alongside stagnation leaves policymakers trapped: tightening monetary policy deepens unemployment, while easing it accelerates currency collapse. For citizens, the result is relentless erosion of living standards.
Why this is more dangerous than missiles
External military threats—missiles, airstrikes, nuclear warnings—are serious, but they can be politically useful to an embattled regime. They rally nationalist sentiment and shift attention outward. A collapsing currency does the opposite. It turns every citizen into an auditor of state competence and every market transaction into a vote of no confidence.
When workers, consumers, and merchants all suffer simultaneously—and when bazaar doors close in protest—the pressure becomes systemic. This kind of economic revolt is harder to suppress and harder to reframe as foreign aggression.
From economic protest to political challenge
What makes the current unrest especially perilous for the regime is how quickly economic grievances have turned political. Demonstrators have gone beyond exchange rates and fuel prices, chanting openly political slogans. Recordings circulating online include expressions of support for Reza Pahlavi, Iran’s exiled crown prince, with chants such as “This is not the last battle—Pahlavi will return.”
Pahlavi has publicly backed the protesters, addressing bazaar merchants and citizens who have taken to the streets, and warning that as long as the current regime remains in power, Iran’s economic deterioration will continue.
In that sense, the rial’s collapse is no longer merely an economic failure. It has become a catalyst—transforming financial despair into a direct challenge to the regime’s legitimacy, and revealing that Iran’s most serious threat today is not external firepower, but internal collapse.
I was calmly eating my Belgian fries—perhaps one of Europe’s last undisputed contributions to world civilization—while watching the Flemish channel VTM. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and that of course meant it was time for a national ritual: discussing climate change on television.
Because nothing pairs better with a warm, dry day than a panel of concerned experts explaining why everything is actually getting worse.
The news anchor, with the appropriate dose of mild existential concern, asked the question of the day: Why is Europe warming faster than other continents? A fair question. You would expect a complex answer about ocean currents, atmospheric dynamics, or perhaps decades of industrial legacy.
Instead, the explanation took a turn that nearly cost me my appetite.
According to the expert, Europe’s enthusiastic green policies may have… unintended side effects. Fewer emissions mean fewer particles in the air—particles that used to reflect sunlight and thus formed a kind of atmospheric “shield.” In other words: by cleaning the air, we may also be removing a protective layer against the sun.
At that moment, my fries became secondary. I was witnessing a philosophical paradox unfolding live on television: Europe, in its moral quest to save the planet, may be making itself more vulnerable to exactly what it is trying to combat.
You would almost expect a Nobel Prize for irony.
And so we naturally arrive at the thought experiment of the day. If fewer emissions reduce that protective layer, then the often-criticized “Drill Baby Drill” philosophy might deserve reconsideration—not as environmental damage, but as… climate management.
Absurd? Certainly. But no more absurd than pretending that complex systems respond linearly to idealistic policies.
After all, Nobel Prizes have been awarded for raising awareness about global warming. By that logic, one might almost expect that someone like Donald Trump would at least receive a nomination for proposing counterbalances—however controversial. When one side of the debate is treated as untouchable doctrine, the other side quickly begins to look like heresy… until reality asserts itself.
Because here lies the uncomfortable truth: nature does not follow ideology.
In life, and apparently also in the environment, everything revolves around balance. Push too far—whether toward unchecked industrialization or toward uncompromising green orthodoxy—and the system reacts. Not with applause, but with correction.
When policy becomes religion, nuance is the first casualty. And nature, unlike voters, does not negotiate. It restores equilibrium.
Perhaps that is the real lesson, somewhere between a portion of fries and a television debate: environmental policy is not about purity. Not about absolutism. Not about moral superiority.
It is about balance.
And balance, by definition, requires more than one force.
Which may well be the most uncomfortable conclusion of all.
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